Hate to wake you up, to say goodbye
by Septdeneuf
Summary: If you had just a few minutes left to leave a message for the ones you love, what would you say? Kurt's about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was written for a prompt on the Glee angst meme, and started during the winter hiatus, so that's were it stands in the continuity. Also, I usually don't do warnings, but you probably shouldn't read this while on a plane.

—

The moment after the announcement, Kurt felt oddly calm. The woman sitting two seats over from him, his closest neighbor in the only half-filled plane, was crying, loud sobs filling the near quiet the momentous statement had left.

But he couldn't just start crying. He always needed an extensive period of being teary-eyed and sniffling, fighting the lump in his throat and his face growing redder before a single tear started flowing.

And in this moment he was just too stunned to even start that process.

He was coming home from a contest his school had entered him in, in an hour or two his Dad was supposed to pick him up from the airport in Columbus, and it took a few moments for him to realize that these plans would be interrupted.

He thought back on the contest. It was for french language proficiency. Going to Dalton had introduced him to the concept of academic contests, that looked great on college forms, and that the teachers of McKinley would never even have dreamed of entering their students in. Third place out of 58 was pretty good, and he could come back next year, and beat every one else then.

Except that probably wasn't going to happen.

No need for padding your college applications when your plane was going to be tumbling down within the next few minutes.

That realization was what made his hands start shaking. When he turned on his phone the reasoning in his head was that if things were already bad enough for the pilot to say they were going to crash, whatever ill-specified effects cell phones were supposed to have on the vehicle were probably not going to make much difference anymore.

As he waited for the phone to start up, he noticed the woman next to him had started to pray. Tears were still flowing down her cheek, but her eyes were closed and he could make out the odd whispered word, that vaguely reminded him of those standard prayers that didn't really seem to have any specific purpose. On an intellectual level, he could understand what she was doing, but it didn't make any sense whatsoever to him. If he hadn't seen her do it, it wouldn't have even occurred to him that people could react to this announcement that way.

When he looked down on his phone, he was surprised to find that he had reception. Four bars. Who would've thought, this high up?

Or did it mean they were already so far down? He tried to ignore the pull of gravity, didn't dare look out of the window. It didn't feel like they were free falling, but he wouldn't really know what that felt like, except for one rather unfortunate roller-coaster ride, which had ended up with him emptying his stomach into a nearby flower bush, almost as spectacularly as that time when he had targeted Miss Pillsbury's shoes. Minus the Bambi speech, of course.

He picked the phone app, then hesitated for a minute. He had the opportunity to say something, but he had no idea if he'd be able to find the words, because he was slowly but surely starting to panic. The fact that someone three rows back had started screaming, and that the only cabin attendant he could see from his position had gotten so pale that he was honestly worried about her health, really wasn't helping.

Still, he selected favorites, and dialed his home phone. It was a school day, Carol was at work, and his dad would be at the garage. No one except the answering machine was going to pick up, and he could've called the garage, but he knew that if he had to hear his father's reaction to what he was about to say he would completely fall apart.

Then again, it wasn't very likely that he was ever going to talk to his Dad again…

The thought frightened Kurt so much, that he was startled when the beeping was replaced by Carol's cheerful voice.

"Hi, you've reached the Hummel-Hudson household. We're not here right now, but if you leave a message, we'll call you back as soon as we can. Here comes the beep!"

When they had first moved in, Carol had insisted that they needed a new message to reflect all occupants of the house. When they had moved back out, it had taken Kurt and his Dad almost two months to realize that they needed to change it back.

But now they had a new house, were living together, and his Dad would have someone to hold on to when this happened.

That thought wasn't nearly as comforting as it should've been. Kurt didn't want to die, was the simple truth of the matter. He had so many things yet to do, become a star, be more successful than Rachel Berry at something they both cared about, change the world, get a boyfriend… and so many other, smaller things that didn't pop in his head right away, but were equally important.

When the beep sounded, his throat felt dry, and his eyes had started watering. His voice felt shaky, when he said:

"Hey Dad…"


	2. Chapter 2

Being an incredibly expensive private school, Dalton was usually always able to provide a suitable substitute teacher whenever a teacher got sick or missed a day for any other reason. A lesson just not being taught was thus a very rare occurrence, that made the obtained freedom taste all the more sweet to the students that could benefit from it.

Just lounging in the senior commons while most of the other students were sitting in their classrooms, learning something, and being generally much more productive than anyone in this room at this moment felt somehow much more gratifying than being lazy under any other circumstances.

Most gratifying of all, though? Flinging more or less explosive birds at green pigs in such a way, that he beat Thad's high score. Blaine grinned to himself, as he tapped the screen to make the yellow bird go faster. Thad had been playing for months, while Blaine had discovered this passtime only a week ago, but he was kicking his ass.

As the level-end screen told him he had set a new record, he looked around the room. One boy from his class had started doing homework, but quickly been told off by Wes and David, who had sprouted some garbage about time honored traditions of enjoying allotted free time, with some added gavel banging, just because they couldn't help themselves.

They had then gone off to discuss the Warblers setlist for Regionals, which Blaine found a little hypocritical, since they both took Warbler business more seriously than any of their school work, so they weren't really taking time off, but Blaine wasn't going to say anything, because honestly? He was slightly afraid of being hit with that gavel one of these days.

He selected the next level and started looking for the perfect place to fling the next bird at, when his phone itself decided to interrupt his thought process, startling him slightly.

"Hey Kurt", he said as he picked up.

"Hey… aren't you supposed to be in class?" Something was off about Kurt's voice, but Blaine wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Well, I snuck out to play some Angry Birds", Blaine joked. "No, actually have a free period, teacher didn't show up. I think Thad is taking bets as to why."

"Oh", Kurt said quietly, apparently not entertained.

"But… what about you, aren't you supposed to be on a plane right about now?", Blaine asked.

"Well… yeah, that's actually why I'm calling…", Kurt's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Did you miss your flight?", Blaine asked with a hint of concern.

"No, I'm on the plane, but the pilot just announced that we're gonna crash very soon."

It took a moment before Blaine was able to reply. "That… that's not funny", he was finally able to choke out.

"Oh I know", Kurt said, but it seemed as if he'd found a tiny bit of humor in the fact that Blaine had implied it to be a joke.

Blaine was usually pretty good with finding the right words, but in this instant, absolutely nothing came to mind. "B…But…", was the extent of his reply.

"I just left a message for my Dad, and I have no idea what I said", Kurt said, his voice speeding up a little. "I think I was rambling. But… I just, I wanted to call you and, you know… say thank you."

"F…For what?", Blaine asked quietly.

"Everything. Being there, and helping me with the whole Karofsky thing, and just being there. You're a really good friend, and I'm really happy that I got to know you."

If Blaine had had trouble absorbing what Kurt said before, now it was sinking in all too clearly. He was saying goodbye. That plane was actually going to… and Kurt took the opportunity to say goodbye. The boy he had just met a few short months ago, and who had managed to become one of his best friends in that amount of time might not be there this time tomorrow.

A very cold feeling seemed to be gripping his stomach, and he suddenly felt that breathing evenly was getting a lot harder.

"Well, I got a great friend out of it, too", Blaine said, hoping that it didn't sound too much like he was acknowledging the fact that Kurt might not… Just thinking about what was happening hurt.

"Yeah, well sorry I wasn't always that supportive, I could've been a better friend…"

Kurt took a deep breath, and then said, "But I just wanted to tell you that -"

There was a crackling that Blaine couldn't quite identify, followed by a dial tone. It took a moment for him to realize the call was over, and when he dazedly looked at the display, the phone would only enigmatically tell him that the call was disconnected. He stared at it for a long moment.

Did that mean Kurt had just lost the signal, because cell phone reception was crappy on planes?

Or did it mean…?

Blaine really wanted to believe that it was just a coincidence that the call had cut out, but he knew how unlikely it was. The simplest explanation was usually correct, and he didn't think either of them got lucky enough for nothing to have happened.

But people survived plane crashes all the time, right? Not everybody, sure, but if there was one thing Lost had taught him, even though he'd never watched all that much of it, it was that people could survive plane crashes.

And Kurt was really tough. After he'd transferred Blaine had found out more about the extent of the bullying, and he had to admit he himself had run quite a while before it could get that bad. Life had thrown all kinds of shit at his friend before, and he'd come out the other side of it all with a snarky comment on his lips and the most fabulous of outfits on his back.

So a little plane crash wouldn't be enough, to get him down.

Would it?

He desperately had to hope for that, because the alternative was one of the scariest things he had ever thought about.


	3. Chapter 3

The plane should've landed almost twenty minutes ago. Burt Hummel wasn't a man who particularly enjoyed standing around and waiting for stuff to happen, so he wasn't too happy about there being absolutely no indication whether that had actually happened, or not.

There was no announcement that the plane was delayed, but the screen he was looking at also didn't say that it had arrived. It was almost as though the airline had kind of forgotten about the plane and just overlooked it when updating the statuses of all the other flights.

The absence of information was so absolute, that he had checked three times already whether he was at the right airport, the right terminal and the right time, and all of these had come up positive. It was just that he didn't trust the guy who did his inventory, so why should that guy's skills at making appointments be any better? Usually Kurt reminded him of things like that, and since his son wasn't there to check in on him, he needed to make sure himself.

But he was exactly where he was supposed to be, at exactly the time he was supposed to be there to pick up his son from the airport. He tried calling Kurt's cell, since he probably would've turned it back on the instant it was allowed again, but he was only greeted by Kurt's voicemail.

If the plane was delayed, it would at least be courtesy to tell people that, so they had an estimate for how long they would have to wait and maybe go buy a donut or a magazine to pass the time. As it were, he could just leave his spot, and then be met with an annoyed son in a few minutes time.

Because he had nothing to do, he was looking around the waiting area, and noticed when two men in suits with concerned expressions and airport staff badges started talking to people, and ushering some away. They were being very subtle and efficient about it, but despite their best efforts they managed to get a lot of attention.

It wasn't really that people were talking any more loudly than before or pointing and staring, but there was a strange sense that everyone in the waiting area was acutely aware of these two guys and who they were talking to. Apparently they all wanted to know what was going on, and to be honest, so did Burt.

Along with curiosity he was feeling this vague sense of dread, as he wondered whether these strange guys had any connection to the fact that there were still no news of what was up with Kurt's plane.

When they finally approached him, after leading a woman who had been standing not too far away from him away, he wasn't too thrilled.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me which flight you're waiting for?", the shorter man asked politely.

"AB398", Burt said, and the two guys shared a look that didn't fill him with a lot of confidence.

"Alright. If you would follow us, we can give you some further information on the situation", the shorter one said. Which sounded even more ominous. So there was a 'situation'.

"Why can't you just tell me right now? There something wrong?", he asked with his intense stare that never failed to make people uncomfortable.

"Because if all the people waiting for that flight are in the same area the distribution of information is going to be much simpler. Please, if you would just accompany us…" the man gestured toward the area where Burt had seen them lead a good number of other people before. He honestly didn't like this, but he had no real reason not to comply with their request, so he followed them with an unhappy grunt.

If they needed to have a good system in place to distribute information, then something was clearly wrong with the flight and the plane, and even though he didn't want to think about all the possible maybes, his subconscious was already busy supplying a number of possible scenarios ranging from a swarm of ducks in the turbines to a flight attendant pulling the emergency chute just to fuck with some self important passengers.

If that was the case he really hoped the annoying passenger hadn't been Kurt.

His mind also came up with several less amusing scenarios, but he firmly pushed them back, refusing to think about them.

A blonde woman ushered him into the next room, and the two men went off to talk to more people. Somehow that didn't seem all that efficient a system to Burt, but he followed her regardless. It was a pretty normal waiting area, with some large windows looking out on the airfield, where a huge plane was currently moving into position for take off.

It was filled with a variety of people who all looked concerned, but apparently didn't know what they were there for yet, either. Some where talking to each other, but doing so in whispers, which didn't serve to make the athmosphere less gloomy at all.

Burt took a seat and looked around. This whole waiting game only put him more on edge, and gave his subconcious even more time to come up with explanations he really didn't like.

It took a while, but several more people came into the room, looking just as concerned as everyone already there. After a while the blond woman, who was dressed like a stereotypical stewardess but didn't have the right facial expression to match went to stand in front of the room, and cleared her throat.

"There have been some technical problems on flight AB398", she said, without bothering with any sort of introduction. She held the clipboard she was holding in front of her, almost like she wanted to hide behind it, but she didn't sound intimidated. "We don't know yet what caused it, but we do know that the pilots were forced to attempt a landing under less than favorable conditions, and it didn't go very well."

She avoided making eye contact with anyone. "The plane has already been found, and it looks like many passengers were not or only slightly harmed." What she left unspoken seemed to carry more weight than what she actually said. Some passengers were harmed. And they hadn't said anything about casualties.

"We don't have much more information at this point, but as soon as we know more about what happened, and the condition of everyone involved, you will be the first to know", she announced, and then left the room before anyone could ask her a question.

Burt tried his very best to look at the situation like an optimist would. She had said that many passengers weren't harmed, so it can't have been that bad. Of course they didn't have too much information right now, since there was bound to be a lot of confusion on site. And there was a good chance that Kurt was perfectly fine if a little shaken up. And maybe pissed, if something happened to the clothes in his suitcase.

If only he actually were an optimist and could believe that everything would be fine so easily.

He took out his phone and tried calling his son again. It went straight to voicemail, which wasn't necessarily anything to worry about. Even if Kurt was fine, he probably wouldn't have had thought to turn his phone back on right after a plane crash.

But it could also mean something was very wrong, and as much as Burt wanted to not believe that, the feeling of dread in his stomach intensified.

—

He honestly had no idea how long a wait was normal in a situation like this, but after two hours had passed, he had some serious trouble keeping himself from getting up and pacing. He was sure, if he started that, though, he'd probably wear a hole in the floor, because of his excess worry, and it would probably put everyone else in the room on edge as well, so he refrained.

The woman sitting next to him kept looking at her watch every thirty seconds, and wringing her hands whenever she didn't need them for time checking purposes, which was beginning to get on Burt's nerves.

Maybe he could afford to go on a bathroom break. Not that he really needed to go, but escaping the room for just a few minutes would be worth it, if only to get away from the mess in his own head.

"Who are you waiting for?", the woman next to him asked suddenly, and he looked up. She was kind of plump, but still pretty enough, but her face was red and blotchy now, even though he was pretty sure she hadn't been crying.

"My son", he answered. "You?" He wasn't someone who just struck up conversations with strangers for no good reason, but she looked so desperate for some human contact that he felt the need to answer.

"My husband" She put both hands in front of her face and took a deep breath and them let them fall. "I just… we've been married for two years, and were just starting to talk about children… and I know I should be hoping, but I just can't shake the feeling that we'll never get the chance…"

"You don't know that", Burt said. He refrained from adding any platitudes about how it would be alright, because he didn't know that, either.

"How old is your son?", she asked.

"Sixteen."

She was just about to say something, when the door finally opened and the blond woman from before entered.

"I'm very sorry about the wait", she said, and removed to pieces of paper from her clipboard. "We've been able to get some more information, and while we still don't know the cause of the crash, we do do have a little bit clearer picture of the consequences."

She took one of the sheets, and attached it to the wall behind her. "We don't know about the status of all the passengers yet, but we do have this list of people who are confirmed to have survived. Some of them are injured, but we don't know details about that. If you find your loved ones on this list, please contact us, and we can provide you with the contact information of the hospitals they were sent to."

Some people were already starting to get up and walk towards the list, but the blond woman wasn't done. She hesitated before putting up her second sheet of paper a few feet from the first one.

"There have also been some casualties", she said carefully and looked down on her clipboard, again avoiding eye contact. "We don't know exactly how many yet, but it's confirmed that the people on this list did not make it."

She took a few steps away from the list, as if not to be associated with it too closely.

"If you don't find your loved ones on either list, that doesn't mean anything, these cover only about a third of the passengers, but it is a start. I'm gonna have to ask you to remain patient, because we're distributing the information as quickly as we can, but right now the situation at the site is not very ordered."

As she left most people had already gotten up, and were all crowding around the list of survivors. The other list didn't draw nearly as much of a crowd. Very few people made that one their first stop, because everyone wanted to believe in the best.

Burt himself hadn't gotten up yet. He told himself it as to avoid the crowd, but really, now that he was close to finding out (or possibly not knowing anymore) uncertainty seemed like the better option. Of course, all his fears could be relieved, but on the other hand…

He saw the woman who had been sitting next to him point to a name on the survivors list, and start babbling with a clearly relieved look on her face. On the other side of the room he saw an elderly asian man start crying very silently, but looking all the more heartbroken for it.

He knew it was cowardly to avoid the answer, so he got up after most of the people had dispersed, either to resume their waiting, or going off to find out more details.

He looked carefully over both list.

Only to find his son's name on the wrong one.


	4. Chapter 4

When he later looked back at this day, he would not remember how he got home. It was probably a miracle that he hadn't gotten into any accidents, because his thoughts were anywhere but driving. Maybe Karma wasn't mean enough to kill both Hummels in one day, who knew.

It didn't seem real. After he'd found Kurt's name and talked to someone from the airport whose face he'd already completely forgotten, about how likely it was that there were errors on either list (not very, but in a crisis situation like that mistakes could be made), his brain had still not quite caught up with the idea that he wouldn't be seeing his son again.

The drive home had passed in a blur, and he couldn't quite remember what he had talked about with the airline people but it didn't seem to matter much. They couldn't fix this. It would not be fixed. Fact of the matter was, Burt Hummel had now lost both his wife and his son.

As he fumbled with the keys to his front door was the first time, that it occurred to him that he would have to eventually tell other people about this. He would have to tell Finn, and Carole, and possibly some of Kurt's friends if Finn and Carole didn't.

But he didn't even know how to begin to say it. The words were simple enough, really, but saying it out loud…

He pushed open the door and carelessly threw his keys into the little basket by the door. Kurt had insisted on getting something like this, something where everyone would be putting their keys so they didn't get lost so often anymore.

As he looked around, he realized that there was hardly any decorating choice that had been made around this house without Kurt's input. Most things were picked as a sort of compromise between his sense of aesthetic, their budget and what the other residents of the house wanted, but his influence was obvious.

All things to remember him by…

The idea that he would need things to remember his son by felt like a punch to the gut. Someday those memories would be faded, but no new ones would be added anymore.

Just like his wife's old dresser, that used to smell like her perfume, but now honestly didn't smell like much of anything anymore, except for the fact that both Kurt and Burt willed it to, and imagined it did.

After his wife had died, after those terrible weeks full of grief he hadn't really cried for years. Now the numbness of the initial shock was fading, and he could feel the long forgotten but still awfully familiar sensation of his breath hitching and his eyes filling with tears.

He rubbed at his face, trying to blink the tears away, because he just didn't know if he would be able to stop ever again if he started now.

Except that wasn't really true, was it? He hadn't believed that he could ever be happy again after his wife's death and sure enough, a few years later there he was, married again, proud father and stepfather, and he'd gotten to be okay again. Someday he would probably be okay again after this, too, and that felt like the worst thing of all.

Life would go on. All around him, and as much as it pained Burt to consider it, his own as well. The world would keep spinning without ever seeing the bright star Kurt should've been, shine. Everything else would continue, except for Kurt.

His room was always full of change, whether he was redecorating, or deciding that the throw pillows were just wrong, or buying outlandish new outfits, and throwing others out, because they were just so two seasons ago.

Now it would be static. However he had left it, it would stay exactly the same, things gathering dust, and missing all future seasons of fashion.

Fighting against the tears was completely useless. He should've known. He still hadn't moved from the hallway, unable to focus on anything else. He noticed the light of the answering machine blink, and he toyed with the idea of just deleting the message, because he didn't feel like he'd be able to mimic a functioning human being just now.

He wasn't quite sure what compelled him to push the play button, after all, but he did it anyway.

"Hey Dad…" Kurt's voice sounded a little shaky, but it was most definitely him, and Burt pretty much forgot to breathe for a moment.

"I… um… not quite sure how to say this, but… well the plane's crashing. Okay, that's actually not too complicated to say, I guess…"

There was some noise in the background, and then Kurt was heard, saying, "Yeah? Well the plane's already crashing, pretty sure my phone's not gonna make that worse. Maybe you should think about talking to people, too"

The answer was indistinct, but then Kurt said, "Well look at that, we're still going down. Apparently you're doing it wrong." Kurt's voice grew a little more distinct again, as he was apparently talking into the phone again. "Sorry about that, I was just yelling at the praying lady." He paused, then sounded like he wasn't talking into the phone again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell."

Again into the phone, he said, "You know that thing about there being no atheists in foxholes? Turns out, not accurate. It's a dumb assumption anyway, you know? Near-death situations don't make Christians pick a different religion at random, either, now do they? Why should they overthrow someone else's world view and not theirs?"

There was a pause, and then he continued much more quietly, "I… I hope that… that I'm wrong, and we'll be able to laugh this off soon… but just in case…" There was another pause.

"Don't let this destroy you", he whispered, and Burt let out a sob. "I need you to be okay. I love you, Dad, and I just can't stand the thought that if something happened to me that you'd…" Kurt trailed off. "Just… you need to be okay." He finished, as though he hadn't been quite sure what he'd been meaning to finish that sentence with, either.

"After an appropriate mourning period, of course", he added and sounded a little more lively. "You can tell everyone that anyone who isn't wearing something outrageously fabulous to my funeral will be haunted. Thoroughly." Burt had to laugh at that and the tone in Kurts voice, but he was barely able to keep up a smile after the initial chuckle.

There was another pause, and then Kurt said in a much more quiet tone, "Bye, dad."

A long beep announced that the message was over, and it left an all encompassing silence in its wake. There hadn't really been any sound in the house before Burt had played the message, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing down on him.

Because this was it. This was the last thing that Burt would ever hear Kurt say. And at that thought Burt couldn't be bothered to stand upright anymore. He slid down the wall next to the answering machine, almost hearing Kurt chide him in his head for wrinkling his clothes like that.

But Kurt would never again say anything to him, or anyone.

The silence was replaced with the gut-wrenching sobs that were the soundtrack of a father's heart breaking.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Send some warm thoughts to my professor who let class end early today, otherwise I wouldn't have written this chapter now. I'm messing up the update schedule here, but I didn't want to wait with uploading. Only one or maybe two chapters left on this story, probably, unless I decide to write an alternate ending. Hope you like this chapter.

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Maybe Carol insisted on picking Finn up from his football practices a little too often, but she always did her best to do it subtly. She was just on her way home from work, did he want to come along? Wouldn't make sense to waste gas by going separately, right? Finn didn't appear to have looked through that strategy, and she was glad about that.

Intellectually she knew she was being silly. Finn had been driving for a while now, and he'd much improved as a driver, but the mail man incident still made her nervous somehow. Someday she was going to have to get a little more relaxed with the issue and stop worrying whenever he was driving around, but as long as he didn't complain about getting free rides home, she would keep it up.

She did trust her son. Really. But sometimes she just couldn't stop herself from worrying.

But Finn was being good natured about it, even if she had the suspicion that he knew she was doing this on purpose. Which might have something to do with the fact that she'd brought donut for the two of them. She knew Kurt wouldn't approve, but it was only for the two of them so Burt would never consume the cholesterol and her step son would never need to be informed of their little transgression.

"These are really good", Finn said while chewing, and she should probably tell him not to eat with his mouth full, but whenever he did that he didn't seem like Frankenteen the incredibly tall quarterback but more like her little boy, and she found it adorable. "We should find a way to sneak them past Kurt more often. Burt would like that, too", he mused.

"Kurt has a point, though. I don't want anything to happen to Burt, and if that means we all have to cut back on the unhealthy delicacies so he doesn't feel bad, I don't think it's such a bad thing."

Immediately Finn looked guilty. "Well, yeah, I just… like donuts."

Carole laughed at the reasoning. "I know, and I think a little indulgence now and then is perfectly fine, otherwise I wouldn't have bought these. Still, don't tell Burt, he'd be sad that he didn't get any."

"Deal. Sure wouldn't mind it if you had this idea more often, though."

"Well this time it was just my craving, next time I'll come up with a good blackmailing plan."

"That's not fair", Finn protested.

"You can always buy donuts for your own money, you know", she hinted, and he just mumbled something about Call of Duty and crossed his arms. Paying for pizza or McDonald's on his own was perfectly fine, but everything else was apparently not in his budget.

Carole laughed again, and told Finn to get himself another donut.

She was in a good mood. Kurt was coming back from his competition, where he'd apparently done very well, and the two of them had made a pact to make spectacular dinner this night or the next. Thinking about the donuts she just had, it would probably be better to have the big dinner next evening, but then again, there was never really too much food for Finn, and Burt and Kurt hadn't had any of the donuts.

When the news came on the radio she just switched the station, missing the news about a plane crashing on the way to Columbus completely.

As they pulled into the driveway she could see Burt's truck was already there, and she smiled at the thought of having her whole family there this afternoon. With Dalton and everything and Finn usually busy after school it was difficult to get them all to spend time together regularly, so she cherished that even more.

She and Finn had been half a family for long enough. She was allowed to get enthusiastic about their new life.

When she came to a stop and turned off the engine, Finn went to throw the empty box of donuts away immediately, so that there was no evidence. She went up the front steps and unlocked the door.

She had planned on holding it open for Finn, but when she spotted Burt sitting on the floor in the hallway next to the phone with tears streaming down his face and completely heartbreaking look she completely forgot.

The door fell closed behind her, and Burt looked up. He blinked a few times, but didn't say anything to her. He looked terrible. That was the only word for it.

"Burt, what's wrong?", she asked, kneeling down next to him. "What happened?"

Burt opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He swallowed hard, but it didn't stop his crying.

"What happened?", she asked again, and looked around to see if there was indication what was wrong. He still didn't say anything, and something occurred to her. Wasn't he supposed to pick up Kurt from the airport earlier today? Suddenly she had a very bad sinking feeling in her stomach and was almost afraid to ask the next question.

"Where's Kurt?" She was praying that the answer was something mundane, had gone to see a friend or her was just upstairs, or… the look on Burt's face told her what she didn't want to know.

"P… plane crash. He's… he's…" Burt was obviously choking on the next word, but Carole couldn't even begin to help him with that. Because if it was the one that was floating around the back of her head in just that moment, then she honestly didn't want to hear it.

"He's dead", Burt finally whispered in a broken voice, and looked down.

She just sat there with her mouth open, completely unable to form a coherent thought. The right thing to do was try to comfort him somehow, telling him… what, exactly?

Because there was nothing to say. Nothing she could say that would make either of them feel bette, nothing that could be done to make anything okay.

"Are… are you sure, maybe someone screwed up and he didn't… maybe…"

Burt just looked at her, saying nothing.

"Oh god…", she whispered.

Just then the door was opened, and she heard Finn enter.

"Hey mom…" he started calling before he noticed the two of them sitting on the floor. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Carole looked at Burt, and it looked like he was drained from just saying it once, so she would probably have to… even though it hadn't quite arrived in her brain just yet, and she felt lost at the concept itself, without really knowing how to say it.

Burt just reached to the phone next to him and pushed a button to play the last message.

Kurt's voice started coming out of the speaker, and for a moment it seemed as though everything was okay, normal, but then… Carole listened transfixed, and knowing what the result was she had to bite back a sob.

When the message stopped Finn stared at both the adults. "But… he's… I mean he's okay, right?"

Carole just shook her head, because she could feel the tears starting to make their way down her cheek and she didn't know if her words wouldn't fail her.

The Hummel Hudson house was incredibly quiet the rest of the day.

77777777777777777777777777

"Did you hear about that plane crash?", Tina asked as they were sitting in the choir room, waiting for glee rehearsal to begin.

"Yeah, they have no idea what happened. I mean, a plane doesn't just drop, who knows what actually went down…" Mike said. "So much for being statistically safe."

Mercedes hadn't heard about the crash yet, because she'd been late that morning and hadn't had time to catch the news. "Plane crash? Really?"

"Yeah, yesterday, not so far from here, somewhere in Ohio. Most people survived, but nineteen were killed", Tina explained.

"How many people were on the plane?", Mercedes wanted to know.

"Around a hundred. So I guess nineteen is not so bad for a plane crash but still… makes you think twice about wanting to fly to Europe", Tina said with a shudder.

"And they didn't say how many are injured. That can be bad enough", Artie said. After all, he had his experiences with the fact that surviving an accident wasn't all fun, either. "I heard some speculation it was the pilot's fault, but I don't know if that's true."

"I just feel terrible for all these people", Tina said. "I mean sure, nineteen's not that many, but still…"

While she was saying that Finn came in, and sat down on the far side of the room. The others didn't notice him right away, because he was very quiet and didn't look at anybody directly.

"Maybe it was terrorists", Puck suggested.

"They said they were sure it wasn't", Tina said. "Guess that's the first thing they talked about."

"Besides, what kind of point is making a small commuter plane crash supposed to make?", Artie asked.

"Terrorists want to make airport people grope little kids", Brittany said as if it was the most normal conclusion in the world. Everyone looked at her, for once impressed that she'd picked up something from the news, albeit vaguely.

Rachel was looking over at Finn, who was just staring at the ground, sometimes looking up at everyone else and swallowing. At further scrutiny he didn't look fine at all. For a moment she wasn't sure what to do. They weren't together anymore, and they'd barely been speaking these last few weeks, but…

Something was off.

"Finn? Is everything okay?", she asked, which made the others look up and notice that Finn was indeed looking quite pale and had dark rings under his eyes.

He didn't say anything for a moment, looking at them worried, but then he looked away again and said quietly, "Kurt was on that plane."

"What? Oh my god, is he okay?", Tina asked, while most everyone else just stared at Finn. Finn just shook his head slowly, still looking at the floor in front of him.

"Is… is he hurt… or in a coma?", Tina asked tentatively and was already dreading the answer.

Finn shook his head again. "He's… one of those nineteen people", he said, unable to say the word.

The choir room had never been that quiet before. For a moment no one said anything, could even think of what to say to that.

"Are… are you sure?", Mercedes finally asked with a voice that belied that she was close to tears. "Maybe it was someone else, maybe he didn't catch the plane, or…"

"He left a voicemail." Finn paused, trying to sort through his thoughts. "And… he was talking to one of his friends from Dalton when… pretty sure it was him."

Nobody said anything for a moment, but then Mr. Schue entered the room.

"Holla classe", he said cheerfully as he came through the door. Looking at them, he added, "Hey, what's up? You guys look as if someone just died."

If there was ever a time to use that phrase.

Rachel got up, and started walking towards the other door. "I don't think we can sing today, Mr. Schue." And with that she left the room, leaving one confused educator behind.

"Did I say something…", Mr Schue started asking. "Wait, did someone actually die?" He hadn't expected several members of the club to nod. "Oh my god, who?"

"Kurt", Tina said, and then started crying into Mike's shoulder, while Mercedes flinched at the name. She looked as if she hadn't even noticed Mr. Schue coming in, too stunned to even see anything right in front of her.

That day no one was singing in the choir room.

It didn't take long for the news to spread all over the school, and the reactions were… mixed. Most people said something along the lines of "oh that's so sad" and had almost forgotten about it by lunch break, others were real shocked, or starting into a rant about flight safety and how more money should be spent on maintaining safe planes than on making sure no one took water on a flight.

There were of course the people who'd started many of their days for years throwing Hummel into a dumpster.

And their jokes really weren't funny.

Dave Karofsky knew that it was better for his status to just laugh along and maybe add some of his own, but he just really couldn't find it in him to laugh about this. Sure, joy at the misfortune of others was one of his favorite emotions, but this was different. This was real, not a part of high school pranks and hierarchy.

Someone was actually dead. And not just anyone. Someone who had left the school because he'd been afraid that Dave was going to actually murder him.

Back when he'd made the threat he hadn't thought about it too much, too terrified of anyone finding out what he'd done, and trying desperately to distance himself. 'I'll kill you' was just a phrase, but now he almost felt sick at the thought that he'd said that, and Kurt had believed it.

Because now that it was reality Dave became acutely aware of the fact that even if Hummel had spilled every single one of his secrets (including ones he couldn't even possibly know about) that he never would have done it. Maybe roughed him up, sure, but not…

There was a line. He'd never really been aware of it before, but he knew that joking about how someone had died was crossing it. Still, he didn't say anything to the other to stop them. He didn't want to risk his reputation by defending Hummel.

And he knew that that was ridiculous. Someone had actually died and instead of doing the right thing and paying him some respect, Dave was too afraid to lose his reputation.

If someone made a novel out of his life, he was pretty sure he'd never be the hero.

Hummel had been someone who could've been the hero. Because while Dave felt the need to hide behind every facade he could find, Kurt had always shown who he was, proudly and without fear of the consequences. Wearing ever more ridiculous things just to show them they couldn't really do anything to him that would last.

And in that desperate moment in the locker room Dave had wanted to have that to. That sense of self, that pride, and he'd wanted to know if those feelings he'd been having, and trying to ignore, if just maybe…

Now Hummel was gone and Dave was left with the unpleasant chance to take a good look at himself. He did not like what he was seeing, and yet… he had no idea how to get out of the mold he'd made for himself. He still wasn't sure about maybe being… but even if he were, he'd never be able to tell anyone.

Or maybe he should. Maybe he should learn his lesson now and try to be a better person and not just go along with everything people were expecting him to.

Being a better person was hard, though. Going along with the crowd was easy.

Whatever he'd do, he knew it wasn't a decision he'd make all that quickly.

He saw Hudson walking down the hallway looking like crap. Most of the glee people did, really. He was looking into his locker and seemed not to even notice that anything was in there.

Dave walked up to him before he could talk himself out of it.

"Hey man", he said, with his hands in his jacket pocket. Hudson looked up, a wary look on his face.

"I'm sorry", Dave said. What he was sorry for… offering condolences or trying to make amends… it didn't really matter all that much. Finn kept looking at him weirdly, but then he just gave a short nod, and Dave turned to leave.

Something had made Finn believe him. Maybe there was some hope there for him.

Maybe.

Santana hadn't really talked to Brittany about what had happened, because she didn't really know how the blonde would view this, and what could be said that wouldn't make it worse. They were best friends, but sometimes even Santana found Brit completely unpredictable.

But when she got a frantic call one afternoon a few days after they'd been told about what happened, she got to Brit's house in record time. Brittany's mom sent Santana straight upstairs, looking quite chipper. Apparently she hadn't noticed her daughter was having a crisis.

Santana walked up the stairs and pushed open the door. "Brit?"

She found her sitting in the middle of what seemed to be an explosion of clothes, sobbing, clutching a piece of paper. No, it was a card, apparently.

"Brit what's wrong?"

"I don't know what to wear", the blonde said and turned her tear streaked towards her best friend.

"Uh…" well that wasn't quite the sort of crisis she'd expected. "Cheerios uniform?"

"No, that's wrong", Brit said loudly and punched one of her hands into the pile of clothes she was sitting on.

"Well, what do you need to wear it to?" Santana asked cautiously.

"To…" Brit started but then stopped, and just held out the card she'd been clutching. Santana looked at it, but it took a moment for her to register.

Funeral.

Oh.

It was an invitation to Kurt's funeral. Santana hadn't even really thought about that before, and it made her breath hitch in her throat for a moment, not that she'd ever admit it to anybody.

Then one sentence caught her attention and explained the whole crisis Brit had been having.

Wear something Kurt would consider fabulous.

"Oh. Well okay, we can look through your clothes, I'm sure there's…"

"But how do we know? When we stopped dating, I asked Kurt if we could still be friends even if he was a dolphin, and he'd help me pick clothes and facials, and he said he'd always make me look fabulous." Brittany paused for a moment, and took a deep breath.

"He's the one who tells me when something is fabulous, and I need to ask him, but I can't. And I can't ask him anything anymore, and it doesn't make any sense, he was fine, and I was talking to him, and now he's not there anymore, and I don't understand."

She wiped some tears away from her face and then added more quietly. "I don't want to understand."

"It's… he's…", Santana started to say, because she usually explained everything to Brittany. But this… of course she knew what had happened, and what it meant, but how it could happen, why… she didn't understand either.

"What if I pick the wrong thing? Kurt says I can look fabulous, but I don't know what's fabulous and what isn't. I need him here to tell me."

Santana could probably try to help out with her fashion sense, pick something and say he'd like it, but that wasn't the point, not really. It wasn't about the clothes.

She really wasn't prone to crying unless she was drunk, and while it had gotten her down she hadn't cried yet about this whole thing, but now, looking at Brittany dissolving into a sobbing mess in front of her and thinking of her own closet, and realizing she didn't really know what would be fabulous enough, either, she felt a lump at the back of her throat, too.

But she was here for Brittany. So she sat down next to her, and wrapped her in a fierce hug, letting her cry, and trying to comfort her.

But there really wasn't anything to say.


End file.
